The Three of Us
by libowie
Summary: "Promise this will all be real when I wake up?" A story of friendship told through seven nights.


1.

On the first night of a journey that determines the fate of the entire world, a young girl cries.

The moon hangs heavy above her and an ocean crashes below her. Her brother snores behind her. She gazes forward, through clusters of stars to where she imagines the horizon to be. Her eyes bore into the darkness as she tries to picture what a mountain must look like, or what a fruit will taste like, or what a flower might smell like.

The bison gives a groan and a lurch, and his pace evens out again. Her brother rolls over in the saddle, mumbling. She does not look behind her. She keeps her eyes trained on the horizon until the pinpricks of light turn blurry from her tears. She tries next to picture a tall, tall tree, but instead she sees only her Gran's face.

She lays sideways in the saddle, watching the sky as the bison tries to catch up with the moon. Her tears leak down her cheek and the cool wind whips at her face- she imagines sunlight beating down on her so strongly that she doesn't have to wear a parka. The stars begin to come back into focus.

A young girl pulls her knees up to her chest and takes a mental count of everything she has with her that connects her to home:

One necklace

One parka

Two sleeping mats

One tent

Five rations of dried seal jerky

Two dresses

Two boots

One brother

Unable to sleep, she sits up and crawls to the front of the saddle. Kneeling, she reaches over and gently places a hand on the shoulder of a dozing boy. His head pops up from his chest immediately, and he looks at her with wide, sleepy eyes.

"Promise this will all be real when I wake up?" she asks, barely a whisper.

His laugh is as light as air, and it travels on the chilled wind, twisting higher and higher until it reaches the moon. The bison lurches, then sets pace once more, and three kids barrel on, chasing an adventure.

* * *

2.

In the beginning, they are three separate people embarking on three separate missions. They are twelve and fourteen and fifteen, too young to be striking out on their own. Their youth shows in everything they do.

Still, certain things must be accomplished in order to survive. Food must be procured and consumed, at least twice daily. Some form of washing is mandatory every three days, and torn things must be mended, campfires lit, sleeping mats cleaned.

The overseeing of these tasks falls to the oldest of the three. He doesn't mind the responsibility, but delegates certain duties to the younger ones if only because he thinks they need some form of reality sitting on their shoulders, anchoring them firmly to the ground. Sometimes he worries that if they keep filling themselves up with all their talk of magic they'll just float away.

But he is only fifteen, and things fall by the wayside. Fingernails get grimy, rips in clothing grow wider and rounder, and dinners are skipped in favor of climbing trees. Occasionally an extra hour in the morning is taken to roll over and go back to sleep.

In the beginning, the three separate people set up three separate beds- two sleeping mats rolled out on opposite sides of the camp fire, and one furry bison tail flopped lazily on the grass- and lay down each night, thinking separate thoughts that lead them into sleep.

"Goodnight Katara. Goodnight Sokka."

"Goodnight Aang, goodnight Sokka."

"Night Aang, night Katara."

And then sweet dreams.

* * *

3.

Time passes, and slowly things that were once novel become mundane. The excitement of running away from home wears off, and routine takes its place.

Appa lands. The kids scramble off and fan out in their different directions- Aang to scrounge for berries and nuts, Katara to find fresh water for drinking, and Sokka to kindle a fire.

The sun begins to set. If there is a river, turns are taken washing up. First Katara, taking her time to rinse off the accumulated dirt of several days of travel. Then the boys, splashing through very briefly (and sometimes causing an even bigger mess.)

The sun goes down. Three kids gather around a fire. The bison creates a massive furry fortress, protecting them from outside threats and berries are divided up, passed around, and eaten slowly. Stories are told of vats of stewed sea prunes and moon pies, soft and as big as Momo's head.

The fire dies down. The travelers grow weary. Bed mats are rolled out side by side and the children pull together instead of fanning out ("We're all a family now, and families keep each other safe.")

They lay on their backs quietly fading in and out of conversation. The youngest points up at the stars and spins tales a hundred years passed: maidens trapped in the sky, waiting too long for a lover's return; warriors, cursed to hold the planets in place; and travelers, so tired from their journey that they took a wrong turn and were lost among the stars.

* * *

4.

The bison barrels on as the sun sinks lower. The oldest sits on the head of the beast, reins bunched tightly in his hands. The girl is stretched out on her back, gnawing absently on the last of the seal jerky rations. The youngest glides through the air, keeping pace with the others for a while before dipping down into the forest.

Brother and sister exchange a look, and the girl peeks over the saddle at the trees below. After several moments, far below the braches begin to shake and the young boy bursts from them. He zooms upward and snaps the glider shut, perching gracefully on the edge of the saddle.

The girl notices something in his hand, red, shiny, and round. "Apple," he says simply, holding it out to her.

She takes the fruit from his outstretched hand and turns it over in her palm once, surprised by how smooth it is. "Apple," she repeats, running it once under her nose. She then holds it out to her brother who glances at it in a purely academic manner, always trying to absorb any knowledge Aang can provide about the world around them.

"Apple, apple," he mumbles to himself, and Katara can almost see his mind categorizing this newest piece of information in with the all other fruits they have learned.

She passes it back to Aang, who says "You just take a bite out of it, like this," and demonstrates, lifting the apple to his lips and snapping off a chunk. He hands it to Katara who imitates his motion, eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh!" she says around a full mouth, "It's sweet!"

She holds it out once again to Sokka, who takes a bite from the uneaten side, chewing and mumbling "apple" under his breath, trying to marry the taste to the name. He extends his arm back to the saddle, and Aang grabs the fruit once more.

Around and around they pass the apple, until it is nothing more than a stem. Aang picks it up and pushes a few seeds from the center, dropping them over the side of the saddle. Katara watches them speed toward the forest below. Her gaze lingers long after the seeds are out of sight.

"I never thought I'd see the world from so high up," she says dreamily.

"I never thought I'd see the world at all," Sokka adds, and the two sibling look at each other for a long moment before Katara offers a small smile and reaches for Aang's hand.

The oldest boy yawns, and Aang hops up, giving Katara's hand a squeeze before letting go. "I'll have a turn, Sokka," he says brightly, and plops down next to him on Appa's head.

Sokka just nods gratefully and pats Aang on the shoulder, handing over the reins and struggling a bit to crawl back into the saddle. His sister has untied the bed mats and rolls his toward him. He rests his head on the bundle, not bothering to untie and unfold it.

Eyes grow heavy and blink shut. The moon hangs high above. "Apples are red and crunchy," Sokka says absently to the sky, trying to memorize so many things about a journey he knows he is not guaranteed to finish.

"Actually," Aang pipes in from the front, "they can be green or yellow, too."

Sokka groans and rolls over, and his sister giggles at both of them, smiling contentedly. Momo curls up between the two siblings and she reaches out a hand to scratch his ears.

"Goodnight," she whispers, and her brother merely grunts in response.

Aang throws a smile over his shoulder. "Night, guys," he says warmly, turning his eyes back on the horizon.

Sleep comes fast and heavy, no dreams.

* * *

5.

Midway to the North Pole, the children's once high spirits start to sag. It feels as if each night stomachs are hungrier, the ground is harder, and the journey stretches out longer before them.

The newly discovered time limit weighs them down. After learning of the end of the summer deadline their travels begins to feel less like a vacation and more like a mission.

They're running out of time.

The kids lay huddled in Appa's shadow, the night sky pressing down upon them. No conversation drifts between them- each throat is closed off by a lump of nervousness.

The young girl is stretched out on her back between her brother and the boy. She quietly turns her head one way and the other, observing both her travelling companions. If she squints, she can just make out the tears brimming in Aang's eyes.

She realizes with a start that the cheeriest member of their group is falling apart. And her brother, the logical one, has been subdued into silence by the reality of the task looming ahead of them.

She can feel despair moving in on their little campsite, its snaking tentacles wrapping around necks and cutting off everyone's words.

Even as she blinks back her own tears, Katara realizes what she must do. Because Sokka is the logical one, and Aang is the cheery one, and she- well, Katara is the one who always has faith. She is the one who keeps them together.

"Once upon a time," she begins, and the words are jarring though she speaks them barely above a whisper, "there were three kids who were given a great and terrible duty. And they felt unlucky. They felt tired and hungry and dirty, and very unlucky because they only wanted to be three kids, not three heroes. And they were afraid of letting people down."

Aang flips on his side so he is watching her, hands tucked under his cheek. It unsettles Katara, how young he seems when he looks at her like that. Like a child waiting for a bedtime story.

"But they were lucky," she continues, "because they were brave. And because they were together. So they went on a journey that sometimes seemed too big, or too dangerous. But it was amazing. They helped people, and saw the world, and slept under the stars. And they knew that they were needed, so they never gave up."

"How does it end?" Aang whispers, and Katara falters because in that moment she doesn't know how to help him.

"They make it to the North Pole, learn the elements, defeat the Fire Lord, yada yada and then happily ever after," Sokka finishes for her.

A tiny smile escapes Aang. "And afterward? During happily ever after- are they still together?"

Katara reaches for his hand, tangling his fingers in hers. "Always," she promises.

"Yeah, yeah, I said _happily_, didn't I?" Sokka grumbles, but he grabs hold of his sister's hand when she extends it, anyway.

And that is how the three young travelers drift off to sleep- tied together, scared and brave, and not alone.

* * *

6.

The journey wears on them slowly.

The trio sleeps close enough together now that when one of them wakes with a fright ("What was that? Sokka, wake up! Did you hear something?") the only necessary movement to rouse the other two is the simple fling of an arm.

"Hmm?"

"Shush!" Katara holds a finger up to her brother, then darts her eyes to the side. Her other hand reaches beside her to grasp Aang's shoulder, shaking it until he wakes.

His wide eyes blink up at her, sleep clearing from them immediately when he notices her wary look. Aang bolts upright, glancing around him. "What is it?" he asks in a pointed whisper.

"I thought I heard something…" she whispers back, speaking so quietly that both brother and friend lean in close to catch her words.

"What kind of something?" Sokka ventures, but Aang curtly nods, brows drawn together, and hops up from the makeshift bed. He reaches round for his glider and tiptoes to the edge of the clearing, briefly patrolling the campsite before lifting himself into the darkened branches of the forest.

Katara remains clamped to her brother's side, hand hovering over her uncorked water skin. "You don't think Zuko-"

"Shh!" Sokka puts a hand over her mouth in attempt to quiet her. In the stark silence, a growing rustling noise becomes apparent. Two sets of blue eyes dart toward the dark line of the forest. The siblings are on their feet by the time the undergrowth begins to shake, weapons at the ready when a shrieking figure bursts out of the tree line.

Rushing full speed toward the campsite is a small boarcupine, its hog-like screeching matched only by Aang's laughter as he chases after it on an airscooter. Katara barely manages to form a shaky wall of water between the animal and the camp, sending it veering off to the right and out of the clearing. The noise dies down and Aang lands gracefully on his feet.

"I think I found our threat," he says, offering up a lopsided smile.

Sokka manages an exasperated sigh and sinks back down onto his sleeping mat. Aang follows suit, flopping onto Appa and curling up against his side. It is only until they are all lying down once more, prepared to drift off to sleep, that they feel Katara shaking.

"Hey, hey," Sokka soothes, reaching out for her, "it wasn't anything, remember? Just some stupid boarcupine. We're fine now."

"I know," she whispers as Aang cuddles up to her side. Unbidden, the questions escape her: "I know, but what about tomorrow? What about the night after that?"

It takes several minutes of Aang's head on her shoulder and Sokka's hand rubbing slow circles on her back for the sound of the boarcupines's screaming to leave Katara's head. Slowly her tremors fade and her eyelids droop.

"Go to sleep," Aang says, and the three kids press together, offering each other as much protection as they can. "It won't seem so scary in the morning."

* * *

7.

As the travelers head farther north, the air finds its chill again. It's cold enough at night that the two siblings sleep with their parkas on, buried deeply in the furs of their sleeping mats.

Soon they leave the last signs of land behind them, until only a vast and freezing ocean surrounds them. At first the change is welcome; it feels like coming home, but when the hours turn into days the empty horizon begins to carry with it a dulling sense of hope instead of security.

They take turns keeping watch for Fire Navy ships, peeking down from the saddle when flying and searching for billows of smoke when Appa takes to the water. When not on watch, time passes slowly and the children lie on their sides, wishing for sleep to overcome them and rescue them from endless white upon blue.

The younger two amuse themselves by passing streams of water between them, catching fish in bubbles to send into Appa's groaning mouth. Once, they dare each other to count as high as they can, hoping the endless list of numbers will eat up the minutes that are slowly ticking by, but discomfort quickly takes over when the girl realizes she can't get much higher than two digits.

"I never went to school," she mumbles, and both kids sulk for upwards of an hour- the girl, ashamed at the primitiveness of her home, and the boy, mentally kicking himself for causing the war that made it that way in the first place.

In quieter moments, the two Water Tribe siblings string together thoughts about what their Sister Tribe will be like, listing off all the foods they are going to eat first until the grumbling in their stomachs become unbearable.

Morning twists its way into evening, and the sun melts into the ocean.

"So what exactly is taking so long?" Sokka ventures as the trio ready themselves for their third night at sea.

"We can't fly because Appa's tired," Aang snaps protectively, and the grumpiness is so rare that both siblings stop what they are doing to look at him.

"Looks like he's not the only one," Katara says, gently laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll take this watch. I think you should get some sleep."

Aang blinks a few times and hesitates, not wanting to cause any discomfort to his friend. "I'll stay up with you," he offers, but his eyes are already drooping shut. The young boy settles back against Appa, folding his staff across his chest.

The young girl sits back in the saddle and stares at the ice around her and the moon's shattered reflection on the water. She thinks about her journey, all the fires they built and nights they went to bed hungry. She thinks about all the things she only ever imagined- forests, and the taste of her first apple, and water that runs down mountainsides warm enough to swim in. She thinks about the incredible things she never even knew existed, like volcanoes that bubble up from the earth, and giant koy fish, and bison that can fly.

She pictures the faces of each person she has met on her journey until her eyes drift to the one face that made all of it possible. A smile breaks across her features.

"Can you believe that when we first started out, this is where we thought the adventure would end?" she asks, but both boys have fallen fast asleep. Ahead of her, the moon ripples its response on the waves.

She trains her eyes on the stars, preparing herself for all that she knows lies ahead of her. "Okay," she says aloud, and she can feel the change that's come over her since the last time she saw an artic sky like this one.

The stars blink back, endless, uncountable. "Okay," she says. "One, two, three, four…"


End file.
